


So, Who's Next?

by RingingSilence



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, One-Shot, Pretty much a normal day for the boys, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 11:51:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9070441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RingingSilence/pseuds/RingingSilence
Summary: Based on the imagine prompt “Imagine the looks on Sam and Dean’s faces when you come back from the dead and save their butts".You know, one would think that getting killed for them would be enough to convince you to let the boys fight their own battles.





	

Vamps are a pain in the butt on a normal day so today of all days was some special kind of karma. Yeah, fine, you hadn’t let them know you were in town the last five times you’d crossed their path but things had been a little…complicated last time. A surprise reunion with the Winchesters was pretty darn far from the top of your “To-Do” list at the moment.

Fate, it would seem, had some pretty high notions about organizing one.

You’d been closing in on a nest on the outskirts of Seattle when you’d caught sight of a familiar black impala parked in front of the diner you’d been planning on hitting up for something calorie-containing with whatever you could charm out of the next pedestrian’s pocket. Despite your current state you’d been unable to resist the urge to keep an eye on them and so you’d followed them out to the old barn, slipping around the side to watch as they loaded up on machetes and cop-stalked their way in.

Almost as soon as they did the skies had opened up but in your increasingly foul mood not even a celestial bucket-full could chase you off now. Pressing your face to a gap between slats in the wall, you could see the shadows of sleeping fangs _everywhere_. Not one or two, seemingly _dozens_ of the blood-suckers all just waiting for one of the hunters to make a misstep.

A pair of shadows darted among the slumped forms, the monsters they passed jerking upright before their heads fell out of sight. If the quickly worsening storm was good for something, it was drowning out their progress through the hoard. As the seconds passed you became more convinced that the two of them would be fine and had actually gotten as far as pushing away from the wall before the storm was overpowered by an all-too-familiar yell.

Your face smashed back against the hole fast enough to make your bruised cheek sting but your attention was on the thrashing shadows in the barn. The telltale bulk of Sam Winchester hurtled into view, turning sharply to fend off one of the monsters as they crashed into him and there was a muffled shout as it sank its shark-like teeth into his arm. Swinging wildly, he managed to sink the steel into the exposed neck. The next flash of lightning brought a pair of new vampires, circling him from the shadows and as he turned to face one the other jumped him from behind. Another two heads joined their companion’s on the dusty floor before the hunter was dragged down, still grunting and kicking as he was hauled into the open center of the barn and thrown down with his brother. A lamp was lit and there were suddenly five figures looming over them.

Fudge.

You knew it was a god-awful idea and that if you didn’t get drawn the ‘lucky break’ card for the second time today things were going to be very hurty very fast, but you still threw yourself onto your feet and hurtled towards the Impala.

Kicking aside the heavy wooden doors, you had to admit that at least one part of this situation was in your favor: splotched with mud and bruises and hair made wild by the wind and rain, a pair of the brother’s hatchets swinging in your hands topped off with a coincidentally-timed flash of lightning as the door groaned out of your path… You looked pretty terrifying.

With a rallying roar you ran at the vamps, burying one axe head in the forehead of the nearest vamp while the other whistled threateningly close to the one that a moment before had been holding the older Winchester up by his collar. Letting the momentum of the missed attack drag you around, you were in time to catch a third in the cheek before it could sink its teeth into your shoulder. Two down, three to go.

The remaining vamps, looking shell-shocked by your sudden entrance, circled from the shadows below the loft overhangs as they sought a plan for taking down the violent yahoo who’d burst in on their evening meal. You didn’t give them a chance, jerking your borrowed weapons free of their victims before rushing the nearest fang who leapt back with a startled hiss. Your shoulder erupted in pain as one of its buddies yanked your arm behind your back, forcing it dangerously close to popping from its socket. You retaliated by kicking back, nailing it (evidently a he) where it hurts. He let go immediately, falling to his knees to allow you a quick end to his misery before turning back to find the brothers dispatching one with your dropped hatchet while the last fled into the storm.

As the barn collapsed into silence the adrenaline of your somehow successful kamikaze attack leeched out of you and you collapsed against the nearest post, letting the hatchet fall to the straw-strewn floor so you could clamp the hand to your battered ribs. Panting, you finally braved a glance at the Winchesters.

Dean had a cut still oozing across his forehead but the shocked and suspicious hard green gaze he had on you told you he was intact enough. The way he was holding your lost weapon as he eyed you strengthened that assessment. The mountain of man beside him seemed like he’d need a minute though: hazel eyes wide with surprise and lips silently mouthing your name.

Half-dead, drenched and all around ornery, you let out a grunt.

“That makes two you owe me for. Skip the sap and tell me you’ve got painkillers.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written circa February 2015


End file.
